


The Convergence of Fates

by ClikC



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClikC/pseuds/ClikC
Summary: A brainwashed assassin battles the return of emotions once throught removed, but as the world spirals out of control with the threat of a second omnic crysis, who is pulling the strings and who's fate is intertwined with whom...





	1. Prelude

The light of evening sun sinks low in the sky of south-eastern France, the bitter chill of a northern breeze blows through the branches of an English oak tree, long barest of its leaves in the winter months. A light snowfall covers the few evergreen trees and hedges native to the small cold grounds of the Crematorium Et Cimetière D'Annecy. A woman of above average height with long dark hair pulled back into a long tight ponytail approaches, dressed in a thin form fitting black three quarter length coat. Its collar, edged in electric pink is turned up against the wind and threatening snow. She is holding a single Red Tulip in black gloved hands. A matching electric pink belt cinched at the middle complements the outfit, matching what appears at first glance to be a pair of calf high boots in the same black and pink, but on closer inspection, these are prosthetics not footwear.

She walks with a quite purpose, a steady click-click of her heels on the tarmacked pathway leading to the singular English oak which marks her destination. A single plot lays between similar looking graves flanked either side for some distance, this grave has lain here for some time. Approaching her destination, she takes a moment to look around her surroundings, and to ensure she is alone. Revealing her high cheek boned face, an effortlessly beautiful but expressionless mask, but her pale skin is tingled a light blue, perhaps with the cold. But her most surprising feature is the peculiar head piece of a black metallic material featuring many lenses all allowing red, which seemed to sit upon her forehead like a crown.

From inside her coat she draws a simple black handkerchief, before crouching down and clearing the flat marker of it’s dusting of alpine snow, before gently laying the single Red Tulip on the marker and standing hands in the pockets of her coat. She ignores the grey granite headstone in which the name of Gerard Lacroix alongside dates of birth and death are carved, all attention instead fixed on the flat grave marker at her feet. For over an hour she stands patiently, quietly observing her yearly ritual. Dark grey Nimbostratus clouds roll slowly overhead, bringing with them fresh alpine snow. Which slowly starts to drift down and settle upon the ground.

With her vigil complete, the Widowmaker turns and leaves, walking along the same tarmacked pathway she came in on, leading slowly back to the cemetery gates, flanked in white walled stone and leading to the Rue Route Du Cimetiere Des Iles. A single black private hire hoover car awaits on the road, it’s chauffeur dressed in grey suit and hat stepping out of the vehicle and opening the rear passenger door and allowing it’s occupant to enter and take a seat in the back of the vehicle, before it departs slowly down the lane and rounding a bend out of sight to join the Boulevard du Fier.


	2. Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 'Alive', just how did Emily meet Tracer.

8 Months earlier.

The sound of the police sirens were getting closer, panic started to set in and Tracer struggled to breathe. Being slammed into the building wall from a three storey fall by Talon’s most dangerous assassin, the Widowmaker, and landing hard on the flat roof below would wind even the hardest of Overwatch’s fighting force. But, it was getting easier to breathe, perhaps Tracer’s Chronal Accelerator had protected Tracer from broken ribs. But this, nor the encroaching police sirens we’re the reason for the overwhelming sense of fear and panic starting to course through every fibre of Tracer’s being.

The Chronal Accelerator built by Tracer’s genetically enhanced gorilla friend and scientist, Winston, in order counteract the effects of the Chronal Disassociation that Tracer’s cells suffered from, was damaged, really damaged. In protecting its owner’s ribcage, the powercell had sustained the brunt of the impact forces. The unit sparked, and the blue light at its centre flickered off and on. Any second now, the light could go out for good, and Tracer would once more become a living ghost, disappearing for maybe hours or days at a time. The crushing isolation and loneliness of having to live such an existence again terrified Tracer beyond all rational thought. She didn’t hear the scraping sound of a sash window being slid open, or the gasp of the flats occupant recognising a former Overwatch hero.

The gentle grasp of a hand on Tracer’s shoulder startled her. “A-are you okay?” Hazel Eye’s met Hazel Eye’s, but Tracer didn’t respond. “Are you hurt? What happened?” The girl asked, but Tracer still struggled for breath due to the rising panic. “I heard gunshots, and a loud thump, I looked out of the kitchen window, and here you are. Did you fall?” Tracer stared for a moment, before her harness made a particularly loud sparking sound, she looked down at the flickering blue light. “M-my h-harness” was all Tracer could manage as a choked reply, a single tear rolled down her left cheek. Tracer inwardly scolded herself, why did she have to start crying in front of a complete stranger, she was supposed to be a hero. Hero’s didn’t cry.  
“Let’s get you inside, before the police get here.” The girl said looking around at the sound of the approaching sirens, before leaning down, gently putting an arm under Tracer’s arms, and helping her to her feet. The girl, whoever she was, was strong, and with her help Tracer managed to limp toward the window. “If you can lift your leg’s a bit, that’s it” The girl helped Tracer slide inside the small kitchen, were Tracer slid down onto the floor below the window. The girl scrabbled inside after her, and slid the window closed. Tracer looked up for a moment, before turning away. The girl was wearing tight fitting leggings, and a baggy sweater, and Tracer just caught a glimpse of her toned flat stomach through tear filled eyes.

“Is there something we can do to fix your thingy harness?” The girl asked. “I-I don’t k-know. W-winston normally fixes it if it’s damaged. B-but I’ve never damaged it this bad before.” More tears started to slide down Tracer’s cheeks. “I-I’m u-useless w-w-with el-electrical t-things.” Tracer started to sob. “I’m sure your friend will be able to fix it for you.” The girl tried to reassure Tracer. “I-If I-It st-stops I’ll-I’ll disappear.” Tracer wiped the tears from her eyes briefly, before fumbling in the pocket if her flying jacket and pulling out a rather old model mobile phone. “I-I need to s-speak to W-winston.” Tracer hiccupped to the girl, unlocking her phone and finding Winston’s number and pressing the call button. “I’m sure it’ll be alright”. The girl tried to reassure Tracer again.

The phone barely rang twice before Winston’s deep voice boomed loudly for both the kitchen’s occupants to hear. “Tracer, where are you? The news feeds are saying Mondatta is dead?” “The Shambali leader?!” The girl exclaimed. “Tracer? Who’s that? Are you okay?” Winston sounded more panicked now. “W-winston, m-my harness.” Was all tracer could manage. “What’s happened? Where are you?” Winston asked, more urgently. “S-she k-k-killed h-him.” Was all Tracer could manage, before the loudest sparking sound yet came from her Chronal Accelerator, and she dissolved into loud sobbing. A gentle hand slowly slipped the mobile phone from Tracer’s hand.

“Tracer, Tracer where are you?” Asked the voice of Winston. “H-hey, sorry, I’m Emily.” “Err, okay. Hello. Is Tracer with you?” Replied Winston. “Yes, she’s here at my flat, I helped her inside, I found her on the roof outside my kitchen.” The girl called Emily told Winston. “Her harness is damaged, and she seems very worried about it.” Emily pressed. “Err… er, right. Erm. I need to take a look at it. W-what’s it doing?” Winston asked. “Well it’s making a sort of electrical noise, and the blue light at the centre keeps turning on and off.” Emily informed Winston, “and it smells like burning.” “O-oh, oh dear. That doesn’t sound good at all.” Winston replied “I, I should take a look at it as soon as possible.” “Are you close by? My flat is just of King’s Row, near The Fox and Bear pub.” Emily asked, detailing he address and postcode. “I-I’m sorry Emily, I’m in Gi… *cough* o-overseas at the moment. I should be able to fly out first thing tomorrow. If you could put the harness on charge, it should be okay. It sounds like the power cell is shorting out.”

Emily left the kitchen with Tracer’s mobile, asking Winston about what sort of cable the harness needed. Tracer dried her eyes on the sleeve of her flight jacket, the wool lining was rough against the skin of her cheeks. But she seemed to be calming down, just a bit, the Chronal Accelerator hadn’t stopped working, and Winston was helping Emily. Maybe everything would work out alright. The harness sparked again. Tracer looked around the Kitchen for a distraction, it was small but not too cramped, tiled in white and green, with white cabinets and a granite work surfaces. It was a nice kitchen, and must have cost a fortune to rent knowing London’s property prices.

“Okay, I think this should work.” Emily had reappeared, carrying a large clear plastic box, full of cables and extension leads, Tracer’s mobile tucked under one ear against her shoulder. Emily placed the box on the sideboard, and placed the mobile on speaker on the side. “Okay Emily, so the Chronal Accelerator needs approximately a six point three eight seven amp supply of current. The field recharging connector should be an IEC C13 if I remember correctly, there is a male receptacle under the cover plate on the back left of the Chronal Accelerator harness, the top most housing.” Winston gave Emily the instructions. “Okay, I’ve got an extension lead.” Emily informed the voice of Winston, extracting a black reel from the box of wires. “But I don’t have an IET thingy.” “International Electrotechnical Commission, IEC C13.” Corrected Winston, “Do you have any old computer cables?” “I’ve got a supply from an old laptop.” Replied Emily, “it would help if I could see what it looks like.”

Winston instructed Emily to remove the cover plate from the back of Tracer’s harness. Which required the use of a butter knife from Emily’s cutlery drawer, in lieu of a flat bladed screwdriver intended to prise open the housing. “This doesn’t look right Winston, the lead I have only has two holes and it’s much smaller than the connector on the hardness”, Emily informed Winston. “Looks kinda like the lead my kettle uses though.” “Ahh, yes, a kettle lead should suffice, and be able to handle the current draw. Sounds like you probably have an IEC C7, most old computer power supply’s used those.” Winston informed himself more than anyone else. Within moments, Emily had retrieved the lead from her kettle, fully un-wound the extension lead, and was firmly pushing home the connector. For just a moment, Tracer thought it hadn’t worked, but the harness made a clicking sound, and the blue light started to pulse between dim and light, like someone slowly breathing.

“I think its worked Winston.” Tracer informed the phone. Emily picked it off the side and handing it back to Tracer. Tracer clicked the phone off speaker, and held it up against her ear. “I-it’s okay big guy, I-I’m just a bit shaken is all. Took a tumble off the roof tops. No, no nothing broken, apart from the accelerator. Bit winded mind.” Tracer looked up at Emily and mouthed a thank you. “Yeah, it’s true, saw it myself. I warned the security, and tried to stop her, b-but she managed it, I thought she was aiming for me, so I blinked.” Tracer informed Winston. “It was her, the one from the museum in Numbani. Just her, didn’t see anyone else. She, she laughed about it… I shouldn’t have blinked…” Tracer finished sadly. It was some moments later Tracer finished “You too, love. See you tomorrow big guy.”

“Would you like drink? Err, Tracer.” Emily asked as Tracer ended the call to Winston and put the phone back in her jacket pocket. “It’s err, Lena. Lena Oxton.” Said Lena, giving Emily her real name. “I’m sorry about the waterworks.” She continued, her cheeks blotching slightly to match her rather bloodshot eyes. “I don’t normally turn into a human hose pipe. I-I’d love a cuppa, but I don’t think your kettle will work without its lead.” “Don’t worry about that.” Emily said with a wave of a hand, she picked out a saucepan and filled it with water from the tap at the kitchen sink. Before placing it on the hob. “We’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way. What, err, happened?” Emily slid down the wall to sit next to Lena on the kitchen floor. “If you don’t mind me asking?”  
“Mondatta, Tekhartha Mondatta. He was meant to give a speech. Me, me and Winston thought it might attract the wrong kind of attention. So, I thought I’d pop over and listen, see if anyone unusual turned up.” Tracer sighed. “Talon agent, assassin more like, codenamed the Widowmaker. She shot him.” “A Talon assassin?” Emily inquired “I thought they we’re just terrorists?!” “They are, but’s not all they do.” Lena informed Emily. “Government likes to keep it under wraps. But we’ve linked them to all kinds of things.” Tracer finished, lapsing into silence. “You said t-the assassin, was a she?” Emily asked. “Yeah, French we think, judging by the accent. Tall, long dark ponytail down to the small of her back. Weird bluish skin, no idea what that’s about. We’ve tracked hundreds of killings back to her, but we’ve never laid eyes on her before, until Numbani.” Lena informed Emily. “Me and Winston, caught wind that Talon we’re going to steal Doomfists Gauntlet, we put a stop to that.” She added with a smile. “Don’t normally tend to leave a trace, sniper, one shot one kill, in and out, no living witnesses and all that.” Lena added with a bitter laugh. “Sounds like you had a lucky escape.” Emily replied. “I shouldn’t have blinked.” Tracer said, sadly. “At least you tried. You can’t stop every murder from happening.” Lena smiled a weak smile in return. 

“I think it’s boiling” Emily added after a moment of silence passed between them, standing up and fetching a couple of mugs from the cabinet. “How do you take it?” “White’n’two if you’ve got it.” Lena answered. Within moments a hot steaming cup of tea was warming both of Tracers hands through her gloves. “Thanks, love.” Lena said with a smile, before blowing on the top of the cup and taking a cip. “Ahh, That’s better.” Emily smiled too and sat down on the kitchen floor with her back to a set of cupboards. “Thanks for helping me, I really appreciate it. You’re a real life saver.” Lena added, her bounce returning in full measure.

It was the first time Lena had really been able to take in Emily’s appearance. She was very pretty, with a square face and a mane of shoulder length auburn hair. Pale ivory skin, with a smattering of freckles. Lena hated her freckles, and she had less than Emily, but Lena thought they suited Emily better. Lena caught herself staring, and promptly took another swig of burning hot tea to disguise the fact. “You’ll have to stay here.” Emily returned, “I don’t think you’ll get far with your Chronal whatsitmenator, and your Friend Winston is coming here tomorrow to fix it.” “Thanks love, I don’t want to impose.” Tracer replied with a small blush. “Its fine, I expect the police are all over the place anyway.” Emily said with a smile, “best to lay low” and as if right on que, the doorbell rang. 

“Oh shit!” Emily swore, “I spoke to soon.” Emily jumped up. “Quick, hide in my bedroom.” Emily pulled Lena to her feet, and hurried her through the kitchen and into the living room. Lena limped along after her trailing the extension lead in their wake, and only had a few seconds to take in Emily’s living room, before she was hurriedly pushed into Emily’s darkened bedroom. Emily closed the door, but the cable wouldn’t let the door shut properly, Emily swore again as the doorbell sounded for a second time. Emily left to answer, leaving Lena alone in her darkened bedroom.

The room was dark, but the curtains we’re not drawn, allowing the night lights of London to illuminate the room enough for Lena to see. The room was more personal than the rest of the flat, a few posters of old films like A Clockwork Orange and bands like the Sex Pistols adorned the walls. The bedroom floor was messy, but nowhere near the standard of messiness of Tracer’s own room, back home was at the moment. Lena could make out what looked like some stringy underwear on the floor, and adverted her eyes, listening to the sounds of voices drifting through the door.

“Good evening miss.” The authoritative sound of a male Bobby met Lena ears. For just a moment, Tracer allowed herself to think about the possibility of Emily handing her over to the police. She’d be sure to be recognised instantly, and with the death of Mondatta she was sure it wouldn’t take much to put two and two together and come up with a murder charge. At the very least they could charge her with firearms offences and maybe even offensives committed under the Petras act. Although they would have to prove ‘Overwatch’ activities, it didn’t bode well at all. “We’re just making door to door enquires, there has been an incident and we wondered if you have seen anything suspicious at all?” Another officer, a WPC this time. “I’m sorry, I’ve been watching hypernet all evening.” Emily replied. “Is it true? Tekhartha Mondatta has been killed?” “I’m afraid it’s too early to comment, but yes it appears as if an Omnic has been killed while giving a speech in the locality. Have you noticed any suspicious persons around? I see your flat is adjacent to a flat roof. Only, we’ve heard reports of person or persons unknown being sighted on roof tops in the vicinity.” “I’m sorry, I’ve not seen anything all evening, apart from the hypernet feed.” Emily replied. She was a masterful liar, and Lena breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you miss, and good evening.” Was accompanied by the sound of the front door closing. Tracer backed away from the bedroom door. “Wew, that was too close for comfort. I thought they we’re going to ask to come in.” Emily stated, slowly opening the bedroom door and switching the light on. “I think they bought it. They’ve gone to next door. Only their bathroom window backs onto that roof, I doubt they saw anything.” Tracer smiled. Emily walked over to a small stereo, “Mind if I put some tunes on?” she asked. “Nah, go ahead, I see you like old punk.” Lena said with a nod to Emily’s ‘London calling’ poster. “I love lots of music, but I post punk is my favourite.” Emily replied, selecting a suitable radio station. “Although, I have a real thing for Jazz at the moment.” Emily added, as the sound of some soft jazz gently filled the room, and Emily sat on her bed motioning for Lena to sit also. She did so stifling a large yawn and pulling a bit more extension cable after her.   
They talked for what felt like hours, Emily pressing Lena for the full details of her fight with The Widowmaker on the roof tops above King’s Row, and her other adventures as part of Overwatch and after. Lena didn’t spare any of the details, Emily was easy to talk too. At some point Lena had laid down, her eye’s felt heavy. The exhaustion creeped over her, and she only vaguely remembered Emily putting a blanket over her, and switching the lights out, before a truly deep sleep overcame her. She dreamed of flying, the buzzing sound of a light aircraft cockpit, falling into a sticky web and the prickly fear of a large spider with 7 glowing red eyes. But all too soon, she was being gently but firmly shaven awake, and memories of her dreams slipped through her fingers like sand on a beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first real chapter here. Taking place not in the current timeline, but post the 'Alive' animated short. I wanted to put a nice spin on Tracer meeting Emily, so while Tracer failed to save Mondatta, every cloud yadda yadda.

**Author's Note:**

> An Epic of Epic Epicness. Well, thats the plan, at least anyways.
> 
> Uploading a bunch of draft ideas here, from which hopefully a decent story will be slowly distilled.


End file.
